Alan barely noticed the girl as he headed down the coach aisle. He followed the numbers down to row 14, preoccupied with the fruits of his trip. The 5-day summit for internal martial arts had been precisely what he'd needed to refocus his training, and he was looking forward to getting home and trying a few new things with his sparring partners.
When he found the number, he looked up at the letters marked on the armrests. 14B: he had the aisle seat. He stepped aside to let the old woman behind him pass, and this absentminded movement into the slow but steady stream of aisle traffic caused the bear of a man assigned to 16A to bump into him, which caused him to nudge the girl shoving a large carry-on bag into the overhead. Reaching up as she'd been, her balance was easily compromised, and as she righted herself, her bag had begun to slide out of its compartment.
His left hand shot up instinctively to secure the luggage, and his right reached out to steady her, catching her hip to feel the unexpected sensation of bare flesh.
"Sorry about that," the huge man in front of them rumbled.
"No harm done," Alan replied, then turned to make his own apology to the girl. She was half a head shorter than him, with short blonde hair that had a touch of blue at the tips. When their eyes met he noticed that hers were a gorgeous shade of hazel, looking up at him from under heavy, dark lashes. Her lips looked deliciously plump and soft.
With a start he realized that his hand was still on her hip. He quickly removed it, and then realized that he hadn't spoken to her yet. "Sorry," he finally said.
She said "It's fine" in a voice that made him think of velvet against skin, her smile polite with a glint of amusement, and turned to sit down in seat 14A. Alan shook his head at the little thrill he felt when he realized this girl was going to be sitting next to him.
While he was highly appreciative of feminine form, Alan considered it rude to stand around gawking openly at attractive women. Nonetheless, he couldn't seem to help giving her a second, more detailed look as she took her seat. Her purple button-down shirt fit snugly at her chest but wasn't form-fitting, and her jeans rode a bit low, exposing the bit of bare hip he'd felt when he'd caught her, but weren't tight. The somewhat plain clothing couldn't hide that her body was an enticing flow of soft curves, but what drew his eye the most was the subtle pout of those full lips; without any conscious prompt, his mind provided a vivid simulation of the touch of those lips against his own.
She glanced up at him, and he quickly busied himself putting his backpack under his seat. He was already embarrassed at becoming tongue-tied earlier, and this flight would last a while; the last thing he wanted was to make things awkward between them and then have to stew in that awkwardness for two hours. He settled back, buckled his seatbelt when the stewardesses began their spiel about safety, and tried to reroute his train of thought from the stunning creature seated next to him, running through common attacks, counters, and exercises to practice both.
Twenty minutes later, Alan woke to her by him, and opened his eyes to a fantastic view of her from behind as she delicately stepped over his legs to get into the aisle; he marveled at how fantastic an ass could look even in loose pants. When she turned to look at him over her shoulder he quickly averted his gaze, and belatedly pulled his legs back to make it easier for her to pass. She stepped into the aisle and opened the overhead, rummaging around a bit before pulling out an mp3 player and and earbud set. When she passed again to return to her seat Alan made sure his gaze was focused elsewhere, but he turned back and met her eyes when she looked at him. It had to be wishful thinking, but it seemed that now there was a bit more than politeness and amusement to her smile.
The girl put the earbuds in and started a song. He could hear it faintly, a woman's vocals with a heavy bassline. Alan picked up a magazine out of the seat-back in front of him and began to flip through it, seeing precious little of interest as he wasn't much of a food critic. The next one seemed more promising, showing on the cover a riverbank in front of a lush jungle, and he scanned through the contents.
He had no sooner selected an article and started in on it than he found himself distracted by his peripheral vision. What had started as subtle movements to the song's beat became more and more dynamic as she became engrossed in it, until she was dancing in her seat. He kept scanning the first line of what would at another time be a fascinating documentation of wildlife in and around Amazon river tributaries, without reading a word of it. All of his attention was focused on the corner of his sight where her sinuous, rhythmic movement flowed an arch into her back, lifting her shirt a bit higher on her stomach and thrusting her breasts up and out before the wave receded.
The orange light of transition from afternoon to evening spilled in through the windows, across the exposed tops of her breasts – had she always had that many buttons undone? - and inside the gap beneath the last button of her shirt where her navel was hidden and revealed to him in an undulating rhythm. It was very clear that he would not be able to avoid being fascinated by this girl.
She turned toward him just as he realized that he'd been staring directly at her. The smirk on her face, he supposed, would indicate that she was aware of the effect she was having on him and didn't mind it, but out of reflex Alan snapped back to his article, determinedly forcing himself to at least process the first sentence.
'Photographing Hoatzin from a moving canoe is harder than it looks.' The girl giggled quietly, and Alan flushed red with embarrassment.
It didn't seem possible that this youthful vision of sexuality could have any kind of interest in him; she undoubtedly got dopey looks like the one she'd caught on his face all the time, from all sorts. If anything, she was probably just teasing to see what other faces he could make.
He stiffened when he felt a light touch on his arm, and stiffened differently when he felt the touch trace briefly down his bicep. Then again, Alan thought, that might not be so bad. He closed the magazine, replaced it in the seat-back and turned toward the girl.
She looked pleased with his decision, and leaned forward for a moment to look past him. Alan briefly followed her eyes across the aisle: the old woman in 14D was asleep, her breath fogging a small part of the window, and 14C was empty. When he turned back to her, she was putting her music player and earphones into her shirt pocket. She began tracing a finger down her collarbone, the followed the curve of her cleavage; the slight pressure of her fingertip made a little dimple in the soft flesh as it passed. She toyed with the highest fastened shirt button, her nonchalant expression betraying a hint of mischief. He watched with rapt attention.
It stayed fastened and she continued down over her shirt, watching her own descent along the line of buttons until she passed the last one and skimmed down the little space of bare midriff. She turned her eyes to him as she unfastened her jeans, then began to pull down the zipper. Alan saw only skin where underwear could have been before she stopped and brought the zipper back up.
Her grin widened at the expression on his face, and she drew her fingertip back up her stomach, catching on the bottom button and dragging her shirt slowly upward. He took in every inch of smooth, pale skin that she revealed. The cups of a light-green bra came into view, and then the ample cleavage that it contained. The girl cocked her head at Alan, raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Glorious," he answered.
That quiet laugh again, and then her eyes flicked up the aisle and she smoothly but quickly pulled her shirt back down. Moments later, a stewardess came down the aisle with a refreshments cart. They both waved away the offer of food or drink, but before the stewardess could continue past the girl said, "Actually, could I get a blanket? I'm a little chilly." As the woman in uniform walked off, Alan turned to look at his seatmate, who in turn leaned over again to look at the woman across the row. She had stirred a bit from the passing of the cart, but quickly settled back to sleep.
Satisfied, the girl turned so her back was partly towards Alan, raised her shirt again until the clasp of her bra was revealed, and looked back at him expectantly. Alan hesitated, but in that moment he couldn't imagine what else she could mean: he reached over and undid the clasp, with thankfully minimal difficulty. When the straps fell away, he indulged himself and let his knuckles drift lightly down the uninterrupted curve of her back; her skin was even silkier than it looked, and she shivered lightly at his touch.
Her shirt had barely dropped back to its normal place when the stewardess returned. The girl thanked her brightly for the blanket, and immediately set to draping it over herself. Alan watched her hands moving methodically down her front under the cloth; after one more check on the sleeper across the row, she reached across his lap to take his left hand and guide it under the blanket.
When she brought him to the meeting place of the sides of her shirt, he found that all of the buttons were undone. He moved the fabric out of the way and his palm caressed the slight roundness of her belly, drinking in the feel of her bare skin. When she felt him start to take initiative, she stopped guiding him, but left her hand resting lightly on his. His explorations trended upward, until he reached the cups of her bra. Hooking his index finger in the fabric between the cups, he pulled up; the bra offered minimal resistance, and soon enough he felt her breasts pass by either side of his hand as they bounced free of the garment.
Alan brushed his fingertips over the top of her breast at first, then curved underneath. The warm weight of the deliciously soft handful filled his mind with a haze of arousal. She held his eyes with a deceptively innocent expression as she pressed her hand over his gently, and he felt her nipple hardening against the center of his palm. He squeezed and stroked the soft flesh, rubbed up and down, felt the thick, firm tip drag along his skin. Her eyes drifted shut and a smile played at the corner of her mouth as she bit her lip. She guided his hand to her other breast; he felt her other nipple push between his fingers, barely heard her contented sigh as he gave it a gentle tug.
